The Adventure of Angevin's Empire
by Westron Wynde
Summary: The kidnap of a champion stallion means a venture for Holmes and Watson into the world of horse-racing with a companion in tow. A light-hearted mystery containing scenes of great embarrassment for Dr Watson and great amusement for Holmes! COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Sherlock Holmes, Dr Watson et al are the creations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. This story is a work of fan fiction, written by a fan, for the pleasure of other fans and no harm is meant or intended by its creation.**

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_**The Adventure of Angevin's Empire**_

**Chapter One**

Through many years of association with Mr Sherlock Holmes, I believe I am more qualified than most to be a fair judge of his character and disposition. I say fair in all sincerity, for I doubt any man could ever say with any certainty that they had plumbed the depths of his complex nature.

However, I flatter myself that I am familiar enough with his temperament to be able to read the changing colour of his moods. What I do with that information is another matter, for no sooner do I believe that I have pinned him down butterfly-like, he will divert along another avenue of thought, leaving me to drift in his wake.

On days like this, Holmes can be most trying, and over the years I can say with all honesty that my patience has been sorely tried a good deal.

On the afternoon in question, at the height of an exceptionally hot summer in 1895, I had not been home more than half an hour than I was already aware of my friend's kaleidoscopic fluctuations in mood, from elation to lassitude, from joy to misery in the space of less time than it took me to pour myself a cup of coffee.

I was not overly concerned for I knew from whence these humours arose and I had no mind to pander to them. We had never directly addressed the issue, but I knew Holmes was still irritated by my choosing the opening night of a new production of _A Midsummer's Night Dream_ at the Theatre Royal over a concert at St James' Hall featuring a rising young soloist from Vienna.

When I told him that a patient of mine had supplied me with a gift of two tickets for the performance, Holmes had declared that he had little liking for Shakespeare's comedies, saying that more was to be learnt from the tragedies and histories than tales of fairies and donkey-headed men. If he thought this was an argument likely to sway me to his way of thinking, he was mistaken. He had been riled by my obstinacy and continued to be so, whilst trying and failing to give the impression that it mattered not a jot to him.

I knew this to be the case because he had spent the better part of half an hour trying to divert my attention from the latest edition of _The Lancet_. A minor demonstration involving carelessly-flung letters and dark mutterings about missing files took up most of his time until, seeing that I was unmoved, he seemed to relinquish the battle.

I had forgotten, however, that Holmes did not give up so easily.

He came to rest before the fireplace, one hand thrust into the pocket of his dressing gown, the other holding a letter, which he was reading with intense concentration. Then, with the most exasperated of sighs, he railed against the world in general.

"Intolerable!" he declared. "That it should come to this!"

I glanced over the top of my journal at him. "Trouble, Holmes?" I asked as I took a sip from my cup.

"Confound it all, Watson," said he, "but I do declare that I am in dire need of a woman!"

I nearly choked on my coffee. As I have said, one may trace the changing aspects of Holmes' moods, but his ability to shock is still infinite.

"Good heavens, Holmes," said I. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I should have thought it perfectly obvious."

"Not immediately, no."

"Well, then, to adorn my arm of course," said he tersely.

Long exposure to army life has to some extent left me inclined to assume baser motives when addressed in such a matter. By now, however, I should have known that Holmes' outburst was intended to lead me hopelessly astray.

All the same, I was deeply intrigued by his remark.

"I take it this would be on a merely temporary basis," I ventured. "You have a case that requires a woman's insight?"

"Gracious, no," said he. "I merely require a presence, nothing more. If one is to assume a disguise, then it must be convincing. It needs dressing with appropriate props."

I chuckled at this pronouncement. "Not many women would be willing to go along with you on that basis."

"Ah, so you do see my problem." He paused momentarily. "Watson, you have lady friends, do you not?"

His tone conveyed an implied suggestion that I found most outrageous even for him.

"No, Holmes."

"No, you don't have lady friends or no, you won't ask them if they would consider helping me?"

"The latter. And while we're on the subject, the former is most certainly none of your business."

His expression took on an attitude of mild offence.

"I really do not see why you should be coy about the matter, Watson. It is quite in the natural order of the world that an eligible widower such as yourself should have admirers. For example, this lady you insist on taking to the theatre tonight."

"Holmes," I said wearily, laying down my journal.

"Is it the widow with the four children or the nubile young lady with the stammer from Faversham?" he persisted.

"Neither. Her name is Mrs Vernon and she has been thrice widowed."

His eyebrows twitched higher up his brow. "One hopes for your sake by natural misfortunes?"

"In matter of fact, yes."

"I am much relieved to hear so. Very well, since you refuse to help me, we will let the matter drop."

I had my doubts as the veracity of that statement, for Holmes can be as tenacious as a leech clinging to its host when the mood takes him. For the time being, however, he seemed content to follow this inclination and settled himself on the sofa, where he took to leafing through his correspondence yet again.

"Angevin," he said thoughtfully. "Your department, I fancy, Watson. Would you be so kind as to enlighten me on the subject?"

From time to time, Holmes will throw a question like this in my direction and expect me to supply him with a detailed insight into the matter. I do not profess to be a walking encyclopaedia for his convenience, although to judge from his manner when I occasionally have to admit to my ignorance, one would think that I had most seriously incommoded him.

However, as it happened, I did have a slight inkling as to what he referred and was pleased to be able to display my small knowledge of the history of these isles.

"The family name of the early Plantagenet kings, unless I am mistaken. Something to do with King Henry II's father being the Count of Anjou, I believe."

Holmes regarded me with a blank expression before glancing back at his letter.

"That's not what it says here at all," he remarked.

"What then?"

He sniffed a little self-importantly. "Something about a seven-year-old grey stallion worth £50,000."

"Ah, in that case you mean Angevin the racehorse. Yes, I remember him. Owned by the Earl of St Ives. Undefeated in twenty-two races, including the Derby and the St Leger. As I recall, he was retired from the turf several years ago. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it says here that the beast has been kidnapped and a ransom demanded."

With that, the letter was unceremoniously tossed aside.

"Not that it matters now. Had you been willing to help, then the affair might have presented some small amusement."

"My help?" I queried.

"Because of the delicate nature of the matter, the Earl has insisted on a clandestine meeting at Royal Ascot. Ladies' Day to be exact, on Thursday. Well, I can hardly attend without the company of a woman, can I? Which brings me back to my original problem."

Suddenly Holmes' ramblings made sense. "Thursday, you say? Well, that's the day after tomorrow. I could ask Mrs Vernon, I suppose."

He sprang up and beamed at me. "Watson, you are invaluable! Do whatever you must but persuade your theatre companion to attend."

I must say that I have always found Holmes' naivety in the handling of the opposite sex somewhat amusing. His approach is akin to one who has scant dealings with venomous snakes – and with a good deal less success. As capable as he was of being ineffably charming when the mood took him, yet time and again he has proved himself hopelessly inept at any attempt to understand the workings of the female mind.

As now, for instance, when I was left to explain that it would not be as simple as asking the lady.

"You mean she might be busy?" he said blithely.

"No, I mean that a trip to Royal Ascot – Ladies' Day no less – will require the purchase of new costume."

He shrugged lightly. "Then buy one for her."

"Holmes, one does not simply buy a lady a new hat and expect it to end there. Such an action may lead to certain expectations."

"I dimly see what you are driving at," said he in all earnestness. "It is your intention to remain friends and nothing more. And I always considered you to be a most honourable man, Watson. Well, well, we learn something new about our acquaintances every day."

"It isn't that at all. Mrs Vernon has been married three times before and has confided to me that she dares not risk fate again."

Holmes snorted. "Then let the lady buy her own hat. Really, my dear fellow, you make too much of trifles. Why make these things more complicated than needs be?"

"I'll ask her. But I can make no promises. I don't even know if she approves of gambling."

"She has gambled her luck on three husbands, so I would say the odds are fairly in our favour that she does. Well, do what you must, but don't compromise yourself for my sake."

"I will endeavour to be most careful," said I in mock seriousness.

Holmes regarded me down the length of his aquiline nose. "I had a maiden aunt who was most careful," said he. "She ended up with twins."

This time I admit I was shocked, although whether by his bluntness or the fact that he was willing to admit to having another relation beyond his brother, I was hard pressed to say.

"Enjoy your evening with Mrs Vernon," said he, with a sly grin. "If Shakespeare cannot work his charms upon her, then I fear you must. The fate of Angevin may depend upon it!"

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_Continued in Chapter Two!_

_Reviews welcome and greatly appreciated!_


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Adventure of Angevin's Empire**_

**Chapter Two**

As it transpired, Mrs Vernon proved only too willing to take up my invitation of an outing to Royal Ascot. The merest mention that my friend, Mr Sherlock Holmes, would be amongst our party, small as it was, secured her wholehearted support for the venture.

She made it known, however, that as pleasant as the day promised to be, she would have to disappoint her nephew, whose birthday coincided with our outing. Holmes would have been quite oblivious to the true meaning behind this statement, that a sacrifice on her part would have be to met with a sacrifice on mine. The price, as I had suspected, was a new outfit to the tune of some twenty-eight guineas, which fairly left me reeling from the expense.

Having said that, Mrs Vernon did cut a handsome figure that morning as we made our way along the platform to take our place in the special race train. She had much enthused over the dress, a lace creation from a design by Worth with a long train and matching parasol, both tastefully decorated with artificial flowers, and I was bound to say that it did flatter her figure. The hat too was particularly striking, being made up of an artistic arrangement of birds' wings and a giant white ostrich plume that fairly bounced with her every stride.

She clearly revelled in being the centre of attention, but my concerns were for the absence of my friend. I knew his time-keeping to be unpredictable at the best of times, although I was certain he would not miss so important an appointment as this. Our paths had scarcely crossed since my night at the theatre and I had had to communicate the success of my venture in a note. I knew he had read it because I found it later with "Excellent!" scrawled in Holmes' untidy hand across it.

Other than that, our contact had been at a minimum. Yesterday, he had risen early and had been out all day. As I had spent most of my time in the dress shops of Oxford Street, I had no knowledge of his whereabouts or activities. When I had left this morning to collect Mrs Vernon, I had heard him thumping about in his room and muttering something about where the devil his waistcoat had gone.

Sure enough, with less than one minute before the train was due to depart, he appeared, duly resplendent in full morning suit, and strolled towards our compartment with the air of a man without a care in the world.

"You look agitated, Watson," he said unconcernedly. "Mrs Vernon did come, I take it?"

"Of course she did," said I. "It's you I was worried about. Look at the time, Holmes!"

"Well, I'm here now. Shall we?"

He indicated the open door and we stepped inside just as the whistle was blown and the engine began its wheezy huff of activity. We took our seats as the train started to roll forward, by which time Holmes had assumed his most charming prospect and was all smiles and gracious behaviour.

"My dear Mrs Vernon," said he. "A pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr Holmes," said she, returning his smile with a boldness that somewhat took him aback. "Dr Watson has told me all about you. I must confess that I had my doubts how someone alone could possess such great intelligence as to solve such difficult cases, but now I have met you, I am glad to see that I have been woefully in error."

Flattery is never lost on Holmes and I noticed how he immediately began to warm to my companion.

"I'm sure he has exaggerated, madam. Although in your case, I see he has been stinting with his praise."

Mutual admiration has a tendency to pall when one is left out and it was with effort that I tried to make my presence felt.

"Whatever is the matter, Watson?" said Holmes. "Are you choking?"

My feeble attempt at distraction had only served to heighten my growing chagrin and it was to my great relief that Mrs Vernon asked to be excused and left us alone in the compartment.

"Holmes, do not embarrass me today," said I.

"I'm sure I do not know what you mean," said Holmes, settling back into his seat. "Mrs Vernon is a perfectly charming lady. That is a new dress, I take it?"

I nodded.

"How much?"

"Twenty-eight guineas."

"Well worth it," said he approvingly. "If a gentleman cannot afford to clothe his lady adequately, then he has no business exposing her to the public gaze."

"She is not my lady," I corrected him sharply. "We are… just friends."

Holmes raised a questioning eyebrow in a suggestive manner that I found most impertinent.

"We share a mutual interest in the theatre, nothing more."

"Then enjoy it while you can," said he absently. "For I'll wager that the lady will not long remain unwed, although, my dear fellow, not to your good self."

"What on earth makes you say that? Mrs Vernon told me so herself that she has no intention of marrying again."

"Not to an impecunious doctor, no. I fancy her next match will serve to further her social ambitions. Oh, do not feel too badly, Watson. You would soon be on your uppers if were called upon to expend your meagre income on costumes to the tune of twenty-eight guineas on a regular basis."

"I'm sure you are quite wrong, Holmes. I'll bow to your superior knowledge in a great many matters, but when it comes to an analysis of the fairer sex, then your perceptions fall very wide of the mark. You have admitted as much yourself on many occasions."

He had the good grace to nod in approval of my observation.

"Quite so. I am indebted to your perspicacious insight, Watson. Affairs of the heart are invariably and tediously complicated. This is why I am eternally grateful that I am already spoken for."

"What ineffable twaddle you talk sometimes. You are entirely eligible as well you know."

"Ah, but not available, that is the difference. My work is my mistress and she is most demanding and capricious. Take yesterday, for example, when I was forced to spend most of the day in pursuit of this case."

"Did you learn anything of interest?"

"A good deal as it transpired. This Angevin is an interesting beast."

He nodded in the direction of the door, where I caught a glimpse of white lace and flowers as Mrs Vernon reappeared with a porter in tow carrying a tray with teacups.

"This darling gentleman was excessively kind," said she, making the admirable porter blush to his boots. "Bless you, sir."

"Oh, it was a pleasure, madam," said he. "Anything else you need, you just give me a shout."

"Be sure that I will."

He touched his cap and backed out, closing the door as he left. Mrs Vernon handed out the teacups, which even Holmes did not prove too churlish to accept.

"How very kind of the train company to provide refreshments," said she before taking a delicate sip of her tea.

"One suspects it was included in the price of the fare," said Holmes. "Rarely is anything free these days and, when it is, it is scarcely worth having."

"How very true. I said as much to Dr Watson the other night at that new production of _A Midsummer's Night Dream_. No wonder the tickets were a gift."

"I thought you enjoyed it?" said I.

Mrs Vernon smiled kindly and patted my hand. "Oh, I did, Doctor, most assuredly so. However, I must say it was not the best production I have ever seen. I thought Trent's Bottom was most slight and coarse."

Holmes let out an impromptu laugh.

"Holmes does not approve of Shakespeare's comedies," I explained. "He thinks them trivial."

"On that point, I must agree," said Mrs Vernon. "I'm sure I will never understand the humour, although one does not like to air such views generally for fear of being thought obtuse."

"My dear Mrs Vernon," enthused Holmes. "How refreshingly forthright you are! I must return the compliment and admit that my reasons for this outing are not entirely without an ulterior motive."

"I thought that would be so, Mr Holmes. You are noticeable by your absence at such society events. Therefore, if I might be so bold, may I ask if it is a case that has brought you to Ascot?"

Holmes stared at her with the sort of admiration one might reserve for an infant who suddenly astonishes his elders by explaining in great detail Newton's Laws of Gravity.

"Well, madam, you have quite taken me aback. Yes, indeed, I am in pursuit of a case."

"Would it be impertinent of me to inquire as to the nature of the affair?"

I had expected Holmes to refuse, but clearly my companion's sagaciousness had made quite an impression on him. Rarely have I seen him lost for words, and when he did manage to recover his wits, it was, to my admitted surprise, to oblige the lady's interest.

"The matter concerns the kidnapping a racehorse. A valuable one called Angevin."

"Oh, yes, I believe I remember him. By late husband – God rest his soul – enjoyed the occasional flutter, you understand, and Angevin was one of the horses he liked to back because he was a dashing grey. Out of interest, Mr Holmes, just how valuable is he?"

In view of Holmes' earlier comments about Mrs Vernon's interest in money, her remark made me wonder if there was some little truth in what he had said.

"About £50,000, I've been told."

"My, that is a considerable sum for a horse," said she.

"As I understand, that is based on his value at stud."

I glared at Holmes for making such a blunt and indelicate statement before a lady. He, however, merely smiled back and continued with his explanation.

"The interesting thing, as I was discussing with Dr Watson before you returned, Mrs Vernon, is that last year the horse was valued at £60,000."

"That is a considerable difference," said I. "To what was it attributed?"

"Well, as you know, the value of a sire is based on his performance on the track, which in Angevin's case was exemplary. Once retired, it is to his offspring one looks."

"Has he been found wanting in that respect?" said Mrs Vernon in all seriousness.

Holmes seemed to find this vaguely amusing and I held him entirely to blame for the coarse direction this conversation was taking. Talk of stallions and their standing at stud was hardly the topic for polite company and I had no hesitation in telling him so.

"A thousand apologies if we have offended you, Watson," said he. "However, it does have a bearing on the case. If Angevin has been found wanting, as Mrs Vernon delicately terms it, then it is in the quality of his offspring, not the lack of them. In the two years since he has stood at stud, at least six of his foals have been born with deformities to their rear legs, which naturally renders them quite unfit for their intended purpose."

"Poor little things," said Mrs Vernon sympathetically.

"This then is the reason for the discrepancy in value. You will also note that this year will be the first that any of Angevin's progeny will be tested on the racecourse as two-year-olds. Many people will be watching their progress closely."

"And if they don't perform as expected, then Angevin's value will fall even further," said I.

Holmes nodded. "Quite so. For all its glamour, the world of bloodstock is a business, like any other, based on the value of its assets. As regards Angevin, I would say that his worth as an asset is under question."

"If I understand you correctly, Mr Holmes," ventured Mrs Vernon, "are you saying that his owner might have had a hand in his disappearance?"

"It is a possibility," said he. "Another facet of this case is that the Earl of St Ives is no longer the outright owner. On Angevin's retirement, he sold part of his interest to other parties, who take a share of the horse's stud fees. A shrewd move, I dare say, given the state of his own finances."

"He is in financial difficulties?" I asked.

"That is what my investigations yesterday threw up. The Earl has invested heavily in his yard and his horses, and, until Angevin partly restored his fortunes, he was woefully unsuccessful. His estate is mortgaged to the hilt and his debtors only kept at bay by his one saving grace."

"Angevin."

"Correct. And now he has been stolen."

"But could that not mean that someone wishes to ruin the Earl?"

Holmes gave a considered nod. "An equal valid theory, Watson. Either way, this is idle conjecture on our part. We can do no more until we meet with the gentleman."

"Holmes does not like to speculate until he has sufficient data," I explained to a slightly crestfallen Mrs Vernon.

"How very wise. My second husband – God rest his soul – was the exact opposite, always jumping to the wrong conclusions about people. It led to no end of embarrassment on my part. However," she added, "I hope you will allow me to accompany you today, Mr Holmes. I feel that I too should like to know a little more about this business. That is, if you would not be too inconvenienced by my presence."

Ever gracious, Holmes acquiesced. "Mrs Vernon, I would be delighted," said he.

"You are too kind."

Too devious was the thought that came to my mind, for I well knew, as did he, that he could hardly refuse, seeing as how the lady's presence completed his 'disguise', as he had termed it. However, as this façade seemed to please all parties equally well, it was hardly my place to disillusion the lady and was forced to continue the rest of the journey with decidedly mixed feelings about the day ahead.

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_Continued in Chapter Three!_

_Reviews welcome and greatly appreciated!_


	3. Chapter 3

_**The Adventure of Angevin's Empire**_

**Chapter Three**

Royal Ascot on Gold Cup Day offers one of the most colourful and glorious spectacles of the racing season. Gentlemen strut like well-fed woodpigeons, replete in dove grey morning suits and top hats. Their ladies flutter at their sides like so many exotic birds, parading their finery to the envy of other couples and twirling dainty parasols whose tasselled fringes gently sway to enchanting effect in the warm afternoon breeze.

All this was of course wasted on Holmes whose bonhomie I sensed was wearing somewhat thin. This was apparently only to myself, well accustomed as I am to the sensitive variances of his mood after many years of exposure, and was quite lost on Mrs Vernon, who persisted in attempting to engage his interest long after his attention had wandered. Superficially, he was polite as ever, although I gathered from his scant regard for the race card which I had passed him that he was keen to conduct his business and bring an end to the matter as soon as possible.

Unfortunately for him, our meeting with the Earl was not scheduled to take place until the running of the second race, by which time it was hoped that the other race-goers would be too wrapt up in the excitement of the day to pay much attention to our disappearance. Until such time, we had no option but to join the others in the Royal Enclosure, a privilege which pleased Mrs Vernon no end.

As exclusive as our surroundings were, however, we were somewhat pressed for space, an inconvenience which I could see did not sit well with my friend. Knowing how he hated social gatherings in general and this enforced proximity to people in particular, he had my every sympathy. That was all I could afford him, since the majority of my time was taken up with explaining the nature of the betting system to Mrs Vernon.

"So I must give one pound in order to get five back," said she, finally, and to my relief after a second lengthy explanation, grasping the concept of the odds of five to one. "Is that a good bet?"

"Fair," said I. "The more fancied the horse, the shorter the odds."

"Then I shall make this one my champion," she purred. "'Mystery Man': do you think the name fortuitous, Mr Holmes?"

"I would not know, madam," said he tersely. "Dr Watson is the expert in all matters pertaining to the equine."

"I most assuredly am not," I protested, lest his pronouncement give the erroneous impression to Mrs Vernon that the majority of time was taken up with what I consider to be no more than a healthy interest.

"Well, with that I must concur," said Holmes ungraciously. "Considering the amount the good Doctor loses on a regular basis, I am forced to revise my opinion."

"Holmes!" said I. "That is quite untrue. I never lose more than I can afford."

"And how much can you afford?" asked Mrs Vernon with no trace of embarrassment.

A fleeting smile crossed his face, as though the impertinence of her question had not entirely taken him aback.

"Enough," I replied. "Certainly enough to chance a pound on your five to one shot, Mrs Vernon."

"Then I will chance five," said she, dipping into her handbag. "What about you, Mr Holmes?"

"I am but a penniless consulting detective, Mrs Vernon," said he, in mock apology. "Today finds me as poor as the proverbial church mouse. I cannot afford the luxury of indulging in gambling."

Her expression became one of the greatest disappointment. "I had thought you were a wealthy man, Mr Holmes, what with all those important clients you assist."

"Indeed I am not. I have often commented on the fact that there is very little money in this business. That I practice my art at all is for the sake of it, not for pecuniary considerations. Thus I am often forced to beg from my friends and forego the new. This suit, would you believe, is nigh on ten-years-old?"

She appraised him with a critical eye. "Yes, I can well believe that," said she disparagingly. "In any case, I intend to chance my five pounds. Will you place the bet for me, Doctor? Oh my, I do declare I have just seen Mrs Banbury in the most outlandish dress and quite unsuitable for a woman of her years. Do excuse me while I pay my respects to the dear lady."

With that, she was gone, swallowed up in the crowd before I could offer to accompany her.

"A very independent-minded woman," Holmes commented. "If only she did not talk so much, she might make an interesting topic of study."

"What was all that nonsense about you being penniless just now?" I said with annoyance. "Are you trying to embarrass me after all?"

He looked appalled at the prospect. "My dear fellow, I merely wish to exclude myself from the running, if one might borrow a racing term, and bring an end to this needless banter from the lady which is woefully distracting my attention."

The arrogance of the man was outrageous.

"You flatter yourself, Holmes. Mrs Vernon is not interested in you."

He shrugged. "If you say so, Watson. As ever, I follow your lead in the matter."

"That I sincerely doubt," I replied, handing over the money to the bookmaker and receiving a chit in return. "You seem intent on ruining my reputation before the lady."

"Then you wish me to sing your praises and exalt you above all over men instead?"

"I wish you to do nothing of the kind," I said with exasperation.

"What then would you have me do?"

"As little as possible. You have already done quite enough damage."

"Oh, but I understood you were just friends."

"So we are. However…"

"You want to keep your options open?"

"Holmes! Really, this is going too far."

"I shall say no more," said he. "Clearly, I am as hopeless as any ingénue on the subject."

"Indeed you are. You say the first thing that comes into your mind without a thought as to the consequences."

"Perhaps I see things for what they are. No, your accusation was fair, my dear fellow, and I am quite contrite. It was not my intention to cause offence. Let us say no more about it for here comes the lady now."

Mrs Vernon returned just as the royal procession was making its way past the stands. She made some remark about the handsome and noble aspect of the Prince of Wales, which earned a grunt of amusement from Holmes, and from thereon in, I felt as though I was treading a tightrope between his simmering derision and her outspokenness. It was to my very great relief when Mystery Man stormed home in first place and Holmes began to make overtures as to the necessity of keeping our appointment.

Clutching our winnings, we proceeded through the throng and out towards the stable block. The heady stench of sweaty horses, oiled leather and fresh manure did nothing for the throbbing pain at my temples, and I had to wonder at the wisdom of taking Mrs Vernon with us, dressed as she was in her twenty-eight guinea finery. To her credit, she pressed on gallantly and did not blanch too greatly when her foot pressed deep into the still steaming deposit left by a passing racehorse.

Five stalls along, we found the Earl of St Ives, Lord Hedley Harvey, a tense, thin-lipped gentleman in his late forties, in the company of two other men. One, a lean, shorter man with the ruddy cheeks of one who spends a good deal of time outdoors I took to be the trainer. The other, towering above us all even without his top hat, was a giant of a man with a great shock of red hair and fiery mutton-chop whiskers, whose dress and bearing marked him out as a man of considerable wealth. A chestnut horse stood between them, his muzzle seeking out the trainer's pockets in the hope of finding something worth his while.

"Mr Holmes, thank heavens you've come," said Lord Hedley. "This my trainer, Mr Henry Young, and this gentleman is Mr William Poole, who owns the controlling interest in Angevin. It was at his request that I retained your services, although for my part I believe there is very little to be done. Indeed, this very meeting jeopardises the horse's safety, for we were warned of the consequences of such folly. Even now I suspect we are being watched."

"Calm yourself, Lord Hedley," said Holmes, reaching out to stroke the velvet nose of the inquisitive horse. "To the casual observer, we are merely discussing the merits of this fine beast at your side. If by the kidnapper, then you may be sure that the lure of money will outweigh any considerations of concern on his part."

He made a faint gesture in my direction and deigned to complete the introductions.

"This is my friend and colleague, Dr Watson, and Mrs Vernon, who has been kind enough to accompany us today."

I shook hands with Mr Poole, who then took the liberty of smiling most impertinently at my companion and kissing the back of her hand with an elegance of touch for which I should not have given him credit.

"A pleasure to meet you, madam," said he. "Most gracious of you to assist us today."

Mrs Vernon beamed with evident pleasure at this chivalrous gesture.

"Now," said Holmes. "To the matter in hand. I understand from your letter that Angevin has been kidnapped and a ransom demanded. May I ask how much?"

"Ten thousand pounds," said Mr Poole.

"A not inconsiderable sum. Are you and your fellow investors able to generate such an amount between you?"

"I would happily bear the cost myself. The horse is worth five times as much as that."

"So I understand," said Holmes. "How was the theft effected?"

"Most audaciously," said Lord Hedley. "Angevin was taken from his field in the dead of night. The next morning, Mr Young found the gates open and all the horses turned loose. Several of the colts had fought amongst themselves, resulting in injuries that have prevented them from racing today. At first, when we could not find him, we had hoped that Angevin had simply wandered away, but then the ransom letter arrived."

Holmes considered this statement for a moment before framing his next question.

"Was it usual for the horse to be turned out at night?" he asked. "Was that not unwise considering the value of the animal?"

"The nights have been warm, sir," explained Mr Young. "And Angevin becomes fretful if boxed for too long. It has always been our custom to turn him out in the evening."

"Indeed. So he is still under your care, Mr Young. I understood he was at stud?"

"No, Angevin stayed on at my stables after he was retired."

"Is that common practice?" Holmes asked.

"No," said Lord Hedley. "Except that we – by that, I mean my fellow investors and I – wished to retain control over the horse. Selective breeding is the key to success and we have been carefully vetting the mares to ensure that Angevin's offspring are the very best."

"Our intention is to found a great dynasty," explained Mr Poole. "Horses that would equal and aspire to greater heights than their sire. In time we will create an empire of horses that will sweep all the great prizes of the horse-racing world. We have dreams of what we have tentatively named Angevin's Empire."

"How very exciting!" said Mrs Vernon.

"It is, madam," said Mr Poole, again bestowing a generous smile upon her. "This year, the first of Angevin's progeny are to be tried against their peers. We have great hopes."

"And the lame foals?" said Holmes.

Lord Hedley waved this aside. "Angevin cannot be blamed for deficiencies in the dams. Those foals were regrettable –"

"Indeed. They lowered the value of your stallion by the same amount which you are now pressed to pay."

"A value which will be restored once his offspring begin their careers."

"Then you have a great interest in having your horse returned," said Holmes. "Forgive me, gentleman, but the matter seems clear enough. You must pay this ransom if you wish to see your horse again."

"Your advice is rather blunt, Mr Holmes," said Mr Poole.

"I invariably speak as I find. That being the case, I have only one other question. Have had cause to dismiss anyone from your stables of late, Mr Young?"

"You think a disgruntled employee is behind this terrible deed?" spoke up Mrs Vernon.

Holmes gave her a withering look, which went unnoticed by the lady, whose attentions had returned to the exceedingly complimentary Mr Poole.

"How perspicacious you are, madam," said he.

"All my stable lads are trustworthy," said Mr Young. "They love the horses and wouldn't harm them, I'd be ready to swear to that."

"Except that Jenkins lad," said Lord Hedley. "I had cause to dismiss him, Mr Holmes. I caught him hitting Angevin with a bucket."

"Yes, but that was two years ago," said the trainer. "I still can't believe it of young Jim."

"Would he have been aware of the horse's nightly outing into the field?"

"Indeed he would, Mr Holmes. Angevin was always box-shy, just like his brother in that respect."

Holmes smiled. "Ah, Angevin is not an isolated phenomenon then?"

"Would that he weren't," said Mr Young with a rueful sigh. "He's alike as two peas with his half-brother, Plantagenet, but that's where the similarities end. Plantagenet never won a race in his life."

"Although he is carving a new career as a half-decent chaser under Mr Young's care," said Lord Hedley hurriedly. "Not that this has any bearing on Angevin's kidnap."

"It may," said Holmes. "I take it that both horses are grey?"

"Yes, Mr Holmes," said the trainer. "So alike that it was only Lord Hedley who could tell them apart."

"A shame the thieves did not err and take Plantagenet instead," said Mr Poole.

"How do you know they did not?" asked Holmes.

"Angevin always wears a halter in the field," said Mr Young. "One of the lads found the halter the next morning. The thieves had cut it off him and left it for us to find."

"Oh, what rogues!" said Mrs Vernon.

"Quite so," said Holmes thoughtfully. "This stable lad, Jenkins, where is he now?"

"He found a place with Oliver Harding. He's here today in fact. I saw him earlier."

"Then we must see this Jenkins. Lord Hedley, Mr Poole, you will keep me informed as to events? Excellent. Good day, gentlemen."

I was somewhat surprised at the abruptness of his departure and, after making hasty farewells, Mrs Vernon and I were forced to scuttle with as much dignity as we could muster in his wake. When I finally caught up with him, he expressed his intention of questioning the dismissed stable lad without delay, setting aside any consideration that my companion might be in need of light refreshment.

"Then take her, Watson," said he. "I will pursue my inquiries alone."

"And what if the kidnapper is watching?"

"That I sincerely doubt. However, if you wish to accompany me, I have no objections."

"I think Mrs Vernon might."

She had finally joined us, and as breathless as she was, I caught the bright gleam in her eyes that spoke of her delight in the proceedings. When told of Holmes' intention, she declared that she would not miss the interview for worlds, since she had a mind to say a few choice things to the lad who had so shamefully ill-treated one of God's innocent creatures.

From the stormy look that came to his eyes, I could tell that Holmes was not entirely at ease with this proposition, but lacking the means of persuading Mrs Vernon otherwise, was forced to accept the situation. Accordingly, I was ever aware of the darkening quality of his mood, matched increasingly by Mrs Vernon's loquaciousness on all matters pertaining to the necessity of kindness towards small creatures.

Neither of us was in a particularly happy frame of mind by the time we found the stable lad, Jenkins, and Holmes' sharpness of tone made him look up from his work of rubbing down a sweating horse in some alarm.

"I understand," said Holmes, "that you were once in the employ of Mr Henry Young?"

"That I was, sir," said he. "His Lordship, the Earl, sent me packing because he said I'd hit his horse. I never did such a thing. Angevin is the gentlest horse on God's earth. I never had to raise my voice to him, let alone my hand, sir."

"I should hope not," said Mrs Vernon before either of us could reply to his statement. "The angels weep to see such wickedness."

Holmes sighed, although his manner mellowed somewhat and he smiled kindly at the lad. "I believe you," said he. "Can you think of any reason why the Earl would not want you to tend his horse? It was two years ago, but something may have occurred to you at the time."

Jenkins scratched thoughtfully at the unruly mob of hair that peaked out from under his cap. "I can't rightly think of anything, sir. It's true I was sore at the time, for I was innocent of what he'd said I'd done."

"Sore enough to want to harm that poor creature?" said Mrs Vernon accusingly.

That same look of alarm returned to the boy's eyes. "Never. I loved that horse."

"Mrs Vernon," said Holmes flatly, "I understand your feelings on the matter, which you have made most eloquently, but if you would be so kind as to permit me to go about my business, madam, then we may return with all due haste to our enjoyment of the day."

His tone implied that he would countenance no further discussion of the subject, although I doubted Mrs Vernon had taken it that way. Rather, her expression was one of extreme delight, as though she had inferred from this statement that he had considered her interjections a positive boon. It led to me worrying most earnestly about the timing of her next outburst.

"Now, Jenkins," said Holmes, drawing in a steadying breath to calm his nerves, "your dismissal?"

"Well, sir, it was the day after the Earl announced that Angevin was to be retired from racing. I was giving the horse his usual feed when he turns up and starts shouting that he saw me hitting him about the legs with the bucket. He fair threw me out, sir, and I was right grateful to Mr Young for giving me a good reference."

He patted the glossy neck of the horse he was tending and I noted the genuine affection in the lad's gesture.

"Jumping Jack here isn't a patch on Angevin, but he's a good enough horse, ain't you, old lad?" said he warmly.

"Mr Young's loss is Mr Harding's gain," remarked Holmes.

"My loss, sir," said Jenkins. "I'll never have another horse like Angevin to look after. He's special, sir, with some funny little ways."

"Funny, how?"

"Mad about honeycomb he is," he replied with a fond smile of remembrance. "I always used to slip him a bit in the evenings as a little treat for him. It was our special time, sir. I looked forward to it as much as he did." His expression clouded slightly. "All these questions – nothing's happened to Angevin, has it?"

Holmes shook his head. "It is merely professional interest on my part, have no fear, although I must say that your concern does you credit, Jenkins."

"I'd hate anything to happen to him," said he. "I was always a bag of nerves when he went out to race. I knew he had it in him to win, but there's always a risk of injury. It was a wonder to me that the Earl didn't retire him sooner, especially after he'd won the Derby. What a day that was!"

"Yes, I remember," said I, pleased finally to have something to add to the discussion. "He led the field by twelve lengths."

"Well, you have been most helpful, Jenkins," said Holmes. "Thank you for your time."

"I don't suppose you have a tip for the next race?" asked Mrs Vernon enthusiastically.

"Scholastic," said Jenkins without hesitation. "He's only been worked lightly this year and he's right on form."

Mrs Vernon beamed as she took my arm and turned us back in the direction of the racetrack. "Come, Doctor, you must place my bet for me," said she. "I did so very well last time that I think I might venture ten pounds on this horse."

"Holmes, are we quite finished?" I asked, glancing at his sour expression over my shoulder.

"I'm afraid we are," said he with grim resignation. "There is nothing more to be done. I suppose now we must endure what is left of the afternoon before we are allowed to depart."

"Well, I think you did very well, Mr Holmes," said Mrs Vernon in all earnestness. "You gave that nice Mr Poole most excellent advice."

"I am exceeding glad you think so. However, I doubt the outcome will be a positive one."

"Why ever not, Holmes?" I asked. "They have only to pay the ransom and Angevin will be returned."

He shrugged. "My dear Doctor, you and I both know that life is never that simple. It is my express opinion and utter conviction that Angevin will never be seen again!"

* * *

_Well, all the clues are there. Holmes knows what happened, but do you?_

_Continued in Chapter Four!_

_Reviews welcome and greatly appreciated!_


	4. Chapter 4

_**The Adventure of Angevin's Empire**_

**Chapter Four**

The rest of the day that the three of us spent at Royal Ascot I remember as being memorable if only for Mrs Vernon's prolonged and ultimately unsuccessful attempts to draw from Holmes the meaning of his pronouncement concerning the fate of the horse. Ask me the name of the runners and winners, and I am at a loss. What was most vividly impressed on my mind was the battle royal that raged between the two, with neither side offering nor giving quarter.

Never have I seen Holmes so pressed. He held his corner with quiet dignity and polite refusals, which only served to enflame Mrs Vernon's interest all the more. I did, however, perceive a sea-change in his tactics, as if with the realisation that he was unable to escape his predicament, he must take what amusement he could. Thus began a series of questions met by further questions that were then turned back on his inquisitor to gauge her opinion, which she was only too glad to give for the better part of the afternoon.

Needless to say, by the time we boarded the train home, my nerves were thoroughly in tatters, my disposition not in the best of humours and I was inclined not at all kindly towards either of them. When later, with Mrs Vernon safely seen back to her door, Holmes had tried to re-engage my interest, I had been somewhat terse in my replies and we had tacitly agreed to let the subject drop.

In the two days that had passed since, our paths had not crossed long enough to touch on the matter again; by the Sunday, however, events had taken an unexpected turn and forced the question of Angevin's fate to the forefront of our minds.

As it happened, I had called for Mrs Vernon and had just installed her inside a four-wheeler when a hansom cab came tearing towards us and Holmes leapt out.

"Watson!" he cried. "Thank goodness I caught up with you. We must away to Newmarket and Mr Henry Young's training stable this instant. A wire came just after you left concerning the outcome of the kidnapping."

"I'm afraid I cannot come," said I. "Mrs Vernon and I are going to the park to hear the band play."

His brow furrowed. "Another free concert, Waston? Tsk, tsk! When will you learn that certain amongst the population of this sprawling city hold in very little value those things that provide the most innocent of pleasures for the minimum of cost? Well, never mind, bring the lady along. I'm sure she will be most happy to join us."

So saying, he looked into the cab and put this proposition to her. Despite my consternation at his high-handed behaviour, Mrs Vernon proved most agreeable to the suggestion and together we hastened to the station where we were just in time to catch the one o'clock train to Newmarket.

"So, Mr Holmes," said she, as our train sped past crowded London tenements. "There has been a development in the case, I take it."

"Indeed, Mrs Vernon," he replied. "I received a wire informing me that a grey stallion has been found in the proximity of the stables."

A mischievous twinkle danced in her eyes.

"Oh, then you were wrong when you said that you were convinced the horse would never be seen again," said she in mock-innocence.

Holmes has never been one to take kindly to criticism. I saw now the very great effort it took him to remain civil in the face of this assessment of his earlier perceptions. His jaw tightened and the smile he returned was somewhat forced. A moment later, he had retained his sense of composure enough to take the message from his pocket and glance over it.

"Did I mention," he remarked caustically, "that the horse in question is dead?"

Mrs Vernon caught her breath and her hand went to her mouth. "Oh, the poor beast! Why did the kidnappers do such a terrible thing?"

Holmes gave a terse shake of his head. "That is what we must establish when we arrive at Mr Henry Young's yard. I would however direct your attention to the curious incident of the dismissal of the stable lad."

"Yes, that was odd," I agreed. "Did you believe him innocent?"

"Oh, yes," said Holmes.

"But why then did the Earl dismiss him?"

"That, my dear fellow, is the curious incident."

"Poor creature," said Mrs Vernon in all sincerity. "That nice Mr Poole will be most upset after investing so much money in the horse. I have been told," she added confidentially, "that he is an industrialist of some note."

"Ah, you mean he is wealthy," remarked Holmes with a pointed look in my direction.

I chose to ignore him.

"Is he now?" said Mrs Vernon with a little too much interest for my liking. "Well, what is it that dear Miss Austen says about a single man in possession of a good fortune being in want of a wife? Is he married, do you know?"

Holmes shrugged lightly. "Alas, madam, that falls outside the remit of my interest. Why don't you ask him yourself when we arrive? I have no doubt he will be present."

"Oh, do you really think so?" said she, seemingly quite ignorant of his outrageous mockery.

She fell quiet after this remark with an expression of great thoughtfulness and the utmost concentration on her face. The rest of the journey passed in uneasy silence with Holmes turning his attention to the view from the window. As I had nothing better to do, I closed my eyes and soon found myself giving in to the irresistible lure of sleep.

No sooner had I drifted off, or so it seemed, than Holmes was shaking me and telling me to hurry myself as we had arrived at our destination. Outside the station, a dogcart was waiting and we bounced along in good deal of discomfort until finally we arrived at the training stables of Mr Henry Young.

The yard itself had been swept clean of debris and, apart from the odd piece of straw lodged in the farthermost corners, the stable lads had done their job well. The rich smells of new hay were somewhat overwhelmed by the rank odour of the manure heap, owing to its unfortunate placement in close proximity to the main gate, so that Mrs Vernon was obliged to place her handkerchief over her nose as we proceeded within.

Several heads emerged from the darkness of their stables to watch us over their doors and amongst the overwhelming sea of chestnuts and bays was a single grey horse, near white with age, who I took to be Angevin's half brother, Plantagenet.

As Holmes had predicted, Mr William Poole was already present, looking as prosperous as ever, together with the trainer, a beetle-browed Inspector of Police, and a group of five other men who he introduced as his fellow investors. His glum demeanour lifted when he observed we were not alone and he made a great show of welcoming our companion.

"Mrs Vernon," said he, a broad grin coming to his features. "A pleasure to meet you again."

"And I you, Mr Poole," said she. "Although under most tragic circumstances, I fear. You have my condolences. Most sad."

"A most unusual turn of events," said Holmes before Mrs Vernon had a chance to draw breath and begin again. "Was the ransom paid?"

Mr Poole pursed his lips and nodded. "It was done as they asked. I took the money myself to the location they had given, over at a kissing gate some two miles to the north. There was a bag there that had a strong smell about it and I left the money in it. Then, I hid myself behind the hedge and waited."

"Capital! What then?"

"I waited over an hour, Mr Holmes, and got a fair crick in my back in the doing of it. I was about ready to turn for home when I heard a dog bark. I looked over the hedge and there was this large tan and black hound. It ran up to the bag, grabbed it in its jaws and made off with it."

Holmes let out a hearty laugh.

"Well, well," said he merrily. "Most ingenious. The bag was most likely laced with aniseed, an irresistible lure to the dog, which then carried all back to his master. You did try to follow?"

Mr Poole nodded. "The hound was long gone. That was yesterday. Then this morning, Mr Young found this."

He gestured to a wagon that stood in the centre of yard, on the back of which lay a covered mound. Holmes lifted the corner and stared at the death-dulled eyes of the animal. Save for a few dapples on the cheek and neck, Angevin was much changed by age from the dark grey colt that had been the favourite of the betting public to the near white of his mature coat. A single shot to the head had been enough to end his life and the little blood that had escaped from the wound told that the death had been instantaneous.

"What do you think, Watson?" Holmes asked.

"It's a great pity," I replied.

He glanced over at me, his expression unreadable. "Yes, I suppose it is," he said at last. "Has Lord Hedley seen the horse yet?"

"No," said Mr Young. "Although we expect him at any moment."

The clatter of approaching hooves heralded the Earl of St Ives' arrival exactly on time. Holmes quickly replaced the sheet over the dead horse and retreated to the stable block to pat and stroke the inquisitive nose of Plantagenet.

Lord Hedley strode into the yard with the air of a man carrying the troubles of the world on his shoulders. Considering the strain he was under, I could only admire his spirit and resilience, especially when confronted with the body of his champion stallion.

"Dead then," he stated bitterly. "Despite complying with the kidnapper's demands, Angevin has been slaughtered like a knock-kneed nag." He turned to where my friend stood. "What is to be done now, Mr Holmes? We enlisted your help and this is the result!"

"First," Holmes said calmly, "I think we must establish whether it is Angevin who lies beneath that sheet."

"Of course it is," said Lord Hedley.

"How can you be sure when you have not looked for yourself? You of all people are familiar with your own stallion. As far as we know, this could be any horse."

Lord Hedley looked fit to burst and it was only Mr Poole's agreement with Holmes' suggestion that persuaded the Earl to comply. With great reluctance, he approached the wagon and drew back the sheet to give the dead animal the most cursory of glances. His mouth opened to speak, but then he looked back at the horse, his eyes growing wide and his lower jaw shaking.

"Dear heavens!" he exclaimed. "No! Let it not be so!"

It is fair to say that we were all taken aback by his reaction. The gentleman had dropped to his knees on the cobbles, his hands clutching at the side of his head, and with that unearthly piping issuing from his lips. I hurried to his side and tried to help him up, but he was having none of it and continued in his anguish.

"I understand it is a blow, sir," said I, "but come, you must compose yourself."

"It is only a horse, after all," said Mr Poole.

"Ah, but what a horse," said Holmes, an enigmatic smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "I believe you will find that the Earl's distress stems from the fact that the wrong horse lies on that wagon. If you seek Angevin, you will find him here."

He patted the neck of the horse he was stroking and fished out of his pocket a piece of honeycomb. Offering it on the flat of his palm, the horse sniffed tentatively at it and then proceeded to gobble it down.

"But surely that can't be right," said Mr Young. "That's Plantagenet you have there."

Holmes shook his head. "Mad about honeycomb, that is what Jenkins told us of Angevin. And thus he is identified. There is no mistake."

"Then what the devil has happened here?" Mr Poole demanded, rounding on Lord Hedley. "Come, sir, explain yourself!"

"May I?" said Holmes, leaving the horse to rejoin us. "I perceive that the Earl is a little too distraught to state his case."

"Please do, Mr Holmes."

"I should start by saying, gentlemen, that you have been the victims of a most monstrous fraud, and by that I do not mean only in the paying of the ransom. This 'Angevin Empire' you hoped to create was built on shifting sands. Oh, the horse's record is genuine enough, but Angevin, the _real_ Angevin, ceased to be involved in anything that followed his retirement. For the horse in which you invested your hopes of creating a dynasty of winners is – if you'll forgive me, Mrs Vernon – incapable of siring any foal."

"You mean the horse is…" Mr Poole cast an apologetic glance at the lady and lowered his voice. "You mean he's infertile?"

"Dear me," said Mrs Vernon. "That is unfortunate. However did they discover that, I wonder?"

No one seemed inclined to enlighten her, so it was left to Holmes to continue with his explanation.

"The horse's age at retirement gave me cause to question its suitability as a founding stallion. Having carried off the most prestigious prizes at a young age, it did not seem feasible that the horse should continue to race at the risk of lowering his value by possible defeats. Since the natural course of action would have been to retire Angevin after his Derby win, that this did not happen suggested there was some motive other than the public's fondness for the horse. What other reason than the horse's sterility?"

"That's quite a stretch, Mr Holmes," said Mr Poole. "There could have been a number of reasons for that. After all, I've seen Angevin's offspring."

Holmes shook his head. "Those are the foals sired by his half brother, Plantagenet."

"Mere supposition on your part," croaked Lord Hedley. "You can't prove a thing."

"Ah, but I can. Six foals in two years born with deformities is a few too many to be mere chance. A little research after our meeting at Ascot revealed that Plantagenet's dam was found to have a congenital weakness in her hind legs. Her son passed it onto his offspring, hence the deformed foals. No such strain runs in Angevin's blood."

"You rogue!" stormed Mr Poole at the Earl. "I'll see you clapped in irons for this! Arrest him, Inspector Danning, this instant."

The dour-eyed Inspector gulped and took a step forward. "That's all very well, sir, but what about the kidnapping? That is why I'm here, after all."

"Ah, well, but it is connected, Inspector," said Holmes. "A horse may run on the flat for only so long. Faced with the loss of income when he was forced to retire him, the Earl devised a means to profit from the situation. By judgement or good fortune, he had Angevin's half brother in his possession, a horse so similar in appearance that only he could tell them apart. He saw how he could substitute Angevin, the champion, for Plantagenet, the failure, who would fulfil that all important role of founding sire and sell shares in a false dream of creating an 'empire'."

Holmes paused and glanced in my direction.

"Watson, you remember my comment about the stable lad, Jenkins? I should imagine the substitution took place on the same day he was dismissed, because he was the only other person able to identify Angevin from his love of honeycomb. A simple enough matter to fabricate a charge against the lad and then swap the horses in their stables. Who would be any the wiser?"

"Not me, that's for sure," said the trainer. "Well, I'll be blowed. No wonder he wanted to keep them both here."

"Exactly," said Holmes. "That was in readiness for the day when Angevin had to disappear before his progeny revealed their shortcomings. Once those colts and fillies raced and lost, Angevin's reputation would plummet and his value with it. Before that happened, the Earl engineered the kidnapping of his own horse, the _real_ Angevin. You'll note that the ransom demand was the exact amount by which the horse had already depreciated, and I expect you'll find too that the Earl owns a black and tan dog. Except something went wrong with the theft. Do you have the halter the thieves left behind?"

Mr Young darted away and returned shortly with the head collar.

Holmes examined it briefly before passing it to me. "Not cut, but torn. You will notice where the stitches have been ripped from the fabric. We must conjecture on this point, but I think we can give a good enough account of what happened. It was customary for Plantagenet to be turned out wearing Angevin's halter so that the pair could be told apart. I suspect on this evening the horse caught the halter on the gatepost and in its panic, tore it from its head. That halter then fell over the fence into the field where Angevin was."

Holmes stared pointedly at the still kneeling Earl.

"Your mistake, Lord Hedley, was in not accompanying your hired thieves that night. They had been told to take the horse that was not wearing the halter. Thus they had a problem, since both horses were free. They made the logical decision to take Plantagenet based on the broken halter's location in the other field. That then is the reason for the Earl's reaction just now when he saw that it was Plantagenet who was dead and not Angevin."

"But why kill him, Mr Holmes?" asked Mrs Vernon. "It speaks of wanton cruelty."

"Angevin had served his purpose," said Holmes grimly. "Once his alleged foals raced and their deficiencies revealed, he would be almost worthless as a stallion. His only use was in his ability to win races, which he has been doing with a great deal of success in his new career as a chaser. Ten wins out of twelve starts is a quite remarkable achievement and one that has seen the horse's value increase exponentially. With Angevin dead, Plantagenet could resume his real identity and continue in his role as a breeding stallion."

"While we were left out of pocket with a dead horse and nothing to show for it," said Mr Poole. "Mr Holmes, we are in your debt, sir."

"You may take some comfort from the fact that you still have Angevin, Mr Poole. I have every confidence that his winning streak may continue for some years yet, so you may recoup a little of your outlay with the prizes he brings home."

"Well, I never," said Inspector Danning. "I think you'd better come with me, your Lordship. It seems you have some explaining to do."

With Lord Hedley duly cuffed and led away, it was time to make our farewells. Mrs Vernon, however, seemed dismayed by the prospect and was most reluctant to leave.

"You know, dear Doctor," said she, "I think I might stay in Newmarket a few days. The air is so very good for the complexion away from all that London grime. Would you be so very disappointed if I did not return with you?"

In truth, I was heartily so. However, I did not admit as much and remained gracious in my acquiescence to her proposition. In all honesty, I was quite beside myself with Holmes for ruining what should have been a perfectly amiable afternoon in the park and what seemed to me his deliberate conspiring to drive Mrs Vernon into the arms of Mr Poole. I confronted him with this charge on the train home, at which he seemed remarkably unconcerned.

"Really, Watson," said he. "You must not take it to heart. It was perfectly obvious to me from the outset that Mrs Vernon was looking for a particular type of man, and as I told you, it was never going to be you."

"You mean a man with money like William Poole?"

"I should imagine that was one of his chief charms. As for bringing them together, I must confess that perhaps I am partly responsible. As he is as uncouth as she is brash, they seemed ideally suited, so all it required was the gentlest of nudges to push them in the right direction."

"Ah, then you do admit you set out to ruin my relationship with Mrs Vernon!"

He gave me a sideways glance as he fished his cigarette case from his pocket. "Relationship is it now? What happened to 'just friends'?"

"Well, perhaps I was keeping my options open a little."

Holmes snorted. "Then it was a wasted effort, my dear fellow, for it is unthinkable that I would have allowed you to continue to labour under such a delusion. After all, if I am to lose the pleasure of my Boswell's company yet again, let it at least be to someone worthy of him."

If there is an art to expressing the most touching of compliments in the most off-hand manner, then Sherlock Holmes must be the foremost practitioner. I felt a smile teasing the corners of my mouth, warmed as I was by the sincerity behind those casual words.

"Do you propose therefore to vet all prospective claimants for my hand?"

A long tendril of smoke escaped his mouth to linger veil-like about his head.

"My dear Watson, you speak in jest, but I may yet take you up on that proposal, especially since I seem better able to gauge the suitability of your prospective marriage partners than you clearly are."

I laughed at the absurdity of his statement.

"Holmes, you are incorrigible," said I.

"Yes, and invariably correct. Now, since I have rescued you from the clutches of the abominable Mrs Vernon, the least you can do to show your appreciation is by accompanying me to a concert this evening."

"I take it this is an event which requires very little expenditure?" I asked good-naturedly.

He grinned back at me. "Naturally."

"Good. For like you, I find myself poverty-stricken after the expense of an Ascot dress."

"Then, Watson, we shall be poor church mice together and take our pleasures where we will, enjoying our free cheese that is all the sweeter in our understanding and appreciation of its true worth. For, my dear friend, are truly the best things in life not free?"

**The End**

* * *

_My thanks to everyone for reading and to all those who left reviews._

_Glad you know you enjoyed it!_

* * *

_**Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson are the creations are Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Characters and incidents mentioned in this work are entirely fictitious. This work of fan fiction has not been created for profit nor authorised by any official body.**_


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